Bid Joy Return
by OjosVerdes
Summary: After the War, the hobbits get back to the business of everyday living. AU, OC/Frodo romance.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: Most of the characters and settings in this tale belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. Most of the rest belong to me. Anything else belongs to somebody else, and I'll give credit when I come to those parts of the story.

Acknowledgements: My, I feel silly doing this. But I'd like to thank Mom, for telling me to post this, and Ruthie and Val, for telling me they'd be after me if they didn't see more of this story. Thanks, guys. Thanks also to Sar and Jay, for being supportive even though they think I'm insane:). And everyone else….but I won't go on, it'd take too long. Extra-Special thanks goes to my co-author, God:).

A/N: This piece has been in the works for a year now, and I've finally written the first chapter:). I have to entire arc plotted, the obstacle now is putting it to paper. I've decided to post the first chapter, in hopes that having it under the public eye will spur me to continue. That's really all there is to say, so on to the actual work.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Frodo? May I come in?" Bilbo asked timorously from outside his cousin's bedroom door.

There was a moment's pause, then Frodo appeared at the door in his nightshirt. "What is it, Uncle Bilbo? I thought you'd gone to bed hours ago."

Bilbo looked down at his hands in apprehension. "Well, I tried, but there's something I need to tell you -- it's been weighing on my mind for days. I need to get it over with."

"Well, come in, then," Frodo said, eyeing Bilbo curiously.

Stepping into the room, Bilbo sat down in the chair at the desk and watched Frodo as he made his way back across the paneled room and seated himself on the edge of the bed. 

"Now, Bilbo, what is it?" Frodo asked, watching with concern as his uncle wrung his hands in silent agitation.

"Oh, Frodo, I don't know what to do. No, that's not it -- I know what to do, but I don't know how to go about it." He sighed, almost imperceptibly, moving his gaze beyond his nephew to stare impassively out the window. "How," he mused, more to himself than Frodo, "do you go about telling something that makes you so happy…and will make the hearer so sad?" 

Frodo, watching his dear uncle's face, bit his lip in resignation. It was as he'd feared, so he had better get it over with. "Well, Uncle, perhaps I can help by telling you some of it myself."

Bilbo broke out of his reverie and looked up, perplexed.

"It's like this. You have decided," Frodo paused and heaved a shuddering sigh, "you have decided that the time has come for you to die. And you're afraid to tell me."

The aged hobbit's jaw dropped as Frodo spoke, and it took him several tense moments to regain his voice. When, at length, it came back, he spoke almost hesitantly. "How in the world did you know?"

"Oh, Bilbo, it wasn't difficult. All those close talks with Gandalf, and of late you've been full of recollections about your adventures, and reminisces of the Shire. I know you so well, it was hardly difficult to piece it together." Frodo sighed again and looked out the low, round window into the cool, calm night of Tol Eressëa. A fog covered the land, obscuring the brilliant stars, visible only as faint splotches of light. "And Bilbo," he added, his back still turned, " I understand. I'm happy for you -- really. But it will be lonely here all alone...a lonely hobbit on the Lonely Isle." He turned back to face his long-time companion, a small, ironic smile on his face.

Bilbo was watching him closely. "Do you mean that, as obvious as I've been, you don't know the rest of it?"

"There's more?"

"Well, Frodo, you said that you'd be lonely here alone -- the only hobbit?"

Frodo cocked his head curiously, wondering what his uncle was getting at. "Yesss.."

"Then I have something to ask you -- I might as well be plain. Frodo, if you could go back to the Shire, would you?"

Frodo paused a moment, rather shocked, thinking about the improbable question. "But Bilbo," he faltered, "why even ask? That's not possible!"

"I know," Bilbo said, his eyes brimming with a strange combination of joy and sorrow. "But if you want to, Frodo, you can. The Valar have given their permission." Bilbo abruptly rose from his chair, pacing partway across the floor before turning back to face the forlorn-looking figure seated on the bed. "Gandalf asked, the last time he was in Valimar, and they have agreed that if you wish, you can go back to Middle Earth. Gandalf doesn't understand it any more than I do; for that matter, he said that he wan't sure Manwë understood it. But there it is. There was only one condition -- that once you had gone, if you so chose, you could not come back again. So whatever decision you make, you must be sure it's the right one."

Frodo gaped at his uncle, astounded. After several moments of opening and closing his mouth, trying to speak, he gave up and buried his head in his shaking hands. Bilbo hurried over to the bed, laying a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Oh, Frodo. I wish I didn't have to do this to you. I know how you feel about this whole idea. But, my boy, this is a decision you have to make."

Looking up sorrowfully, Frodo asked "How could you know how I feel about this?"

"My boy, you've told me."

"But telling can't do it justice," he murmured plaintively, "nothing really could."

"Well, then, I feel it. I couldn't quite explain it, but I do understand how you feel. You've been fairly happy here, because you knew -- or thought you knew -- that you could never leave. But you have been happier before: I've seen it. I only want you to regain the happiness you had...well...before everything."

"Even if it means that I have to make a choice between a place…a place that doesn't belong to me anymore, and a place that never has? I know I don't belong here, but it's peaceful here. I can try to forget. If I were to go back, I'd have to face...I'd have to face all the memories head-on."

"Are you sure, my lad, that facing memories head-on isn't exactly what you need?" Bilbo asked gently.

"Oh, I don't know anymore. I haven't known for a long time," he said, brushing away a tear and looking up at the worried face of his beloved cousin. "Uncle Bilbo, you're the closest thing I have to a father, the only father I've known for years. What do you think?"

"I'm afraid I can't help you, Frodo. You'll have to make this decision for yourself." Bilbo rose calmly from his seat beside his nephew, and, having said all that he could, bent down and kissed the tangled hair atop Frodo's head. "I wish I didn't have to leave you alone like this, but there's a lot of thinking you need to be doing, and I'll just get in the way." As he stepped out the door, he turned back. "I won't wish you a good night -- I doubt you'll have one --, but I can say this: I love you, my boy. I've cared for you since you were a reckless young tween, and I've always tried to do what's best for you. Do you think I would intentionally ask you to do something that I didn't believe had the slightest chance of good?"

As the door clicked shut, Frodo turned again to the window next to his bed. Gazing blankly out, he realized that the fog had lifted and the stars were so brilliant that the trees cast shadows on the ground. Closing his eyes and falling back on the pillow, he tried to think rationally. But, still perplexed by the suddenness of the choice he was faced with, his thoughts were nothing more than a confused jumbling of memories and dreams. Rising, Frodo padded across the room, muttering about going to get fresh air. He tugged his grey elven-cloak from its hook on the wall next to the wardrobe and, pulling it over his shoulders, slipped softly down the hall and outside.

As the door closed with a soft 'snick' behind him, Frodo wandered over to the rock bench he had built in their garden, wiggling his toes in the cool, clean grass. Sitting down, he gazed up at the stars, scintillating in the sky above him, looking so close that he almost believed he could reach up and pluck one down. "I love the stars here," he mused, "and the grass looks so green, even in starlight. How could I ever expect the Shire to tempt me again after I've seen the beauty here, so close to the Blessed Realm?" As he pondered, Frodo did not realise he was no longer alone until the voice spoke.

"When a place is home, it is always tempting, despite its imperfections." Strangely, the voice did not frighten Frodo. Rather, it comforted him, reminding him of a warm spring breeze rustling the tender petals of new flowers, or of birds singing in exultation at a golden morning. Turning slowly, looking for the source of the voice, he found behind him two magnificent elven ladies, one dark and clear as the cool night that still lay over the land, the other golden, her face full of the light of a thousand spring mornings. "The stars above the Shire and the stars that you see here are the same," the golden one continued(for it was her voice that had spoken at first), "And I can tell you, Frodo Baggins, that if you were in the Shire at this moment, they would look as bright. I know -- I asked their maker."

The other lady smiled, and added, her voice light and sparkling as the stars overhead, "And the grass in the Shire was created and nurtured with the same loving care as the grass that graces the slopes of Taniquetil. I know -- I asked its maker."

They smiled at each other, almost mischievously, and the golden lady said "Also, Frodo, you forget that you had the Lady Galadriel's help in restoring the Shire after you returned. If she has not forgotten everything I taught her, it will be more beautiful than it ever was. And it always was beautiful. One of my masterpieces, made especially with hobbits in mind."

Finally finding his voice, Frodo stammered, "Your masterpiece? Bu-but..that would mean you're..no.."

"Yes. Frodo Baggins, it is an honor to meet you. I am Yavanna. But my friends call me Kementári," she added with a smile that very nearly lit up the night. "And this is Varda. Elentári. My sister."

Joining Yavanna in crouching at eye level with Frodo, she said, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Baggins. I am sorry we could not get to know you sooner, but if we had allowed you into Aman, you would have died, and we did not want that, after all you have done for Middle Earth. We cannot stay long, for the same reason. But my spouse, Manwë, asked me to give you a message. He bids you choose wisely, and you will find peace. And, Frodo, I bid joy return."

"And I the same."

His eyes tearing up suddenly, Frodo blinked, and when he opened them again, the Valier were gone. Feeling calmer than he had in years, he sat thinking a few minutes more, and then rose and went into the hobbit-hole to bed.

The morning sun seemed somehow brighter, and the sky bluer, when Frodo awoke, still feeling strangely calm. He walked into the kitchen to find Bilbo preparing breakfast, looking worried. When he looked up and saw Frodo smiling, immense relief flooded his features. "Well, my boy, it's certainly a beautiful morning, and from the look on your face, I think it's going to be a good morning too."

Frodo sat down at the table. "You're right," he said, smiling steadily at his cousin, "it is a good morning."

"Then you've made your decision?"

"Yes, Bilbo. It's still impossible, and I still don't know why I'm doing it, but I will go back. I'll go home."

Bilbo's face lit up, and he stood straighter, as if he had been relieved of some heavy burden. "Then I have something for you. Let me go get it before I forget." Rushing out of the room, he returned with a sealed letter. "This is for you, Frodo, but you're not to open it until after the birth of your first child."

Jaw dropping, Frodo asked, "What child? I said I'd go back. I never said anything about children." Suddenly he laughed, doubling over, head resting on the tabletop. "Me, with children!"

Bilbo watched placidly, eyes twinkling at the sight of the hobbit he loved as a son truly laughing for the first time in years. "You never know, Frodo. It's just a feeling I have. How about this: you open it after the birth of your first child, or on your sixty-fifth birthday, whichever comes first."

Wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, he nodded, taking the letter and tucking it in his waistcoat pocket.

"Well, Frodo, I don't know what happened to you last night, but whatever it was, it couldn't please an old hobbit more. Now, let's eat breakfast before it gets cold."

Bilbo and Frodo spent the day talking, reminiscing, and laughing at happy memories. The next morning, when Bilbo was not up and about when Frodo wakened late in the morning, he went to the old hobbit's room to check on him and found him lying peacefully, for all appearances asleep. Walking up to the bed, Frodo picked up his cool hand lying atop the covers and kissed him on the forehead. "Oh, Uncle Bilbo, I didn't expect it to be so soon. I'll miss you, Bilbo. I love you." Setting down the wrinkled hand, he buried his head in the covers and cried silently.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Frodo gulped as he looked down at his feet – one more step and he'd be back in Middle Earth. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he stepped onto the rough sand of the beach. It welled up between his toes as he took a few steps away from the ship, looking about him at the waves lapping the small strip of beach. Lifting his eyes higher, he saw the Tower Hills silhouetted against the rising sun. His first day home had begun. The sight of the hazy, far-distant hills reminded Frodo of the arduous walk ahead of him as he made his way back to the Shire. Feeling exhausted at the mere thought, he plopped down on a handy boulder, doing his best to put off thoughts of the inevitable. As he watched the sunrise turn the dark clouds overhead into a sheet of palest lavender, Frodo was reminded yet again of the visit of the Valier, and the calm that had filled and enveloped him since. " 'Choose wisely, and you will have peace,'" he muttered to himself, his brow wrinkled in concentration. "I suppose I'm peaceful, but still, how will I ever be sure that I chose wisely?" His musings were interrupted as he realized that Cirdan stood over him, waiting to catch his attention. Frodo could tell from his eyes that the shipwright, who had become a friend over the course of the journey, had heard what he'd been saying. "Are you leaving already, then?"

"We are." The kind eyes of the strong -- and very nearly stocky -- elf smiled down on Frodo. "Frodo, my friend, you know as well as I that this whole journey was – is— an impossibility. Yet here we are. That, in itself, says much about the wisdom of your choice. But I know your need for certainty – so why not ask for one more thing -- something that is not an impossibility? Ask for a sign that you have made the right choice. I am sure you will not fail to receive it." Cirdan bent and embraced the hobbit, then strode back to his ship. 

Frodo followed, and, standing by his small pack, watched as the elves set sail back to their home. As the vessel neared the horizon, he murmured into the breeze, "Before I can have peace, I need to be sure. Please, show me whether I've made the right choice." Picking up his pack, he turned to face the Tower Hills, now gleaming white in the morning sunlight, -- and sucked in his breath in amazement. 

While he had watched the ship, a rider had been approaching across the meadows separating Havens from Hills. He drew nearer now, and upon seeing Frodo, kicked his pony to a gallop. At the same moment, Frodo gasped upon recognizing the still-distant figure. "Sam!"

Well, there you have it. Chapter One -- the 'getting everyone back on the same continent' chapter. Chapter Two will be parallel to this one, dealing with why Sam's there.


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: Same disclaimers apply. Bitsy Bolger and Miss Underhill are my own characters, so the disclaimers don't apply to them. That doesn't mean you can use them without asking, though:). 

AN: If there are any glaring errors, I apologize. I'm sick, if that's any excuse. This has been beta read, though, so everything should be okay. Sorry this chapter took so long, the next one shouldn't be so delayed, unless my cold turns into bronchitis. Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Another AN: Just edited to fix formatting problems.

*~*~*~*~*

Samwise Gamgee yawned as his pony loped across the meadow, ever nearer to the Havens. He hadn't slept much over the past week of riding - not at all last night, as he drew close to his destination. Wearily scanning the horizon, his gaze froze on a lone figure standing on the still distant beach. With a gasp, Sam abruptly kicked the pony to a gallop and streaked off across the field, crying out as he went, "Frodo!"

Even at the jarring pace he was setting, it took several minutes to reach the shore, but as soon as he did, Sam tumbled from his saddle and threw his arms around his dear friend. Though the hug lasted only moments, it seemed much longer until either of them spoke. Frodo finally managed to stammer out, "S-Sam! I'm so glad you're here!" He paused, his brow furrowed as the import of Sam's presence hit him full force, then added, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to bring you home, Mr. Frodo!" Sam rocked back on his heels as he spoke, too excited to stand still. He stepped back a pace, looking his friend up and down as if he was checking over one of his plants, making sure it was safe and healthy.

"Bu-but..how could you know I'd be here? What made you come?" Frodo, though only just beginning to absorb the shock of this unexpected arrival, was, at the moment, less surprised than he was glad at this immediate - and very welcome - reply to his request for a sign.

"Well, that's a bit of a long story, Frodo, and right now I'm hungrier than Fatty Bolger on one of his best days. So how about this: I'll start to tell you as we eat some breakfast. If you can get a fire started, I'll see what kind of food I have left. I think there's bacon in one of these packs." Sam turned his attention to the second, well-loaded pony standing patiently behind his own. "We'd better eat a lot, because we have to make room for you on this pony," he said as he scrabbled through the various bundles. His friend watched him for a moment, trying to discern Sam's feelings. Though he quite literally shook from excitement, he didn't betray the least bit of surprise at their meeting. This lack of emotion only served to increase Frodo's desire to hear his story, and, as he bent to gather firewood, he watched the other hobbit's movements with eyes that reflected this curiosity.

As Frodo picked up the last readily available scrap of driftwood and set about arranging his collection, Sam deposited a good-sized armful of provisions on the sand. "I hope you haven't eaten yet, because I surely can't eat all this myself," he grinned down at Frodo, his eyes twinkling with a merriment born not from surprise, but from the fulfillment of a long-cherished hope.

"Don't worry, I haven't, but must you wait 'till you're done cooking to tell me?" 

"Oh, I suppose not. I'll begin as soon as you've finished building that fire, and can concentrate." Sam watched as Frodo, having made a satisfactory arrangement of the bits of wood, struck a match and in a moment had a fairish blaze crackling. He looked on expectantly as Sam, seated comfortably on a large driftwood log bleached white by the sun and full of wormholes, prepared to speak. 

"Well," he said, his brow furrowing, carved by his thought as he went through his tale, sharpening his memory before beginning, "I suppose what you're most wanting to know is why I wasn't surprised to find you here." He didn't bother looking up, as he knew full well the answer to this question. "It really began…well..it took me nearly a week to get here..so…nearly a month ago now. You see, one night, I had this dream…

"I was standing here at the Havens - I've dreamed often of being here, but this time it was different. I wasn't waiting to depart, I was waiting for someone to arrive. As I looked out over the sea, I saw an elven ship coming up over the horizon, and…well, somehow, I knew you were on that ship. Now, when I wakened, I dismissed it. But the next night it happened again, and that morning I started to tell Rose about it. But before I could begin, she told me about the strange dream she'd had the last two nights - how she was walking down towards Bywater with Elanor and a friend of hers - a Miss Underhill, but that's beside the point -, and telling her friend that I had gone to the Grey Havens to fetch back Mr. Baggins.

"We neither of us though much of it, decided it was just a coincidence." Sam reached to stir the fire and, depositing several strips of bacon in his well-worn iron skillet, placed it over the coals. As the meat began to sizzle, he looked up and resumed his tale. "We decided it was just a coincidence, and that was the end of it - no more dreams. For a few days. Early the next week - I think it was Tuesday -- we got up and went to wake the children, and Elanor told us…well, she said 'I've just had the funniest dream! I was out walking with Mama and Miss Ellie,' - that's Rosie's friend's name - 'and Mama was saying that Uncle Frodo was coming home! Is he, Dad? I can't wait to meet him!' She seemed absolutely sure that you'd be back in Bag End soon, and when we asked more about her dream, what she told us was identical to what Rose had dreamt a few days before. We couldn't really consider it a coincidence after that… but, honestly, I didn't know what else to do. If I didn't have Rose and the children to worry about, I would have packed right up and come out here, but as it was I didn't think three dreams were quite enough to warrant that." He looked up a bit apprehensively at Frodo, afraid his friend would be offended by his hesitation.

Frodo just smiled. "I understand. Now get on with it!" Sam, immensely relieved, prodded his bacon and turned it as he began once again to speak. 

"Well, I didn't think three dreams were enough to warrant this trip, but when, after that, they came back every night, I figured that perhaps I should be paying heed after all. So one evening I asked Rosie how she'd feel if I were to ride over here. She encouraged me to go, and though I didn't really want to leave her alone with the children, I finally did. And here I am." As he finished, Sam picked up two pewter plates from the pile of cookery he'd left on the coarse sand and, transferring the contents of his skillet to them, handed one over to Frodo.

"You said it was a long story but it didn't take all that long," Frodo commented as he watched Sam serve their meal. 

"I suppose not. Well, it seemed much longer when you were living it," Sam mumbled around a mouthful of bacon. "Now that you know why I'm here, why don't you tell me why **you** are?"

As Frodo recapped the events of the past few weeks, the simple meal was quickly finished and the hobbits went to work redistributing Sam's baggage more evenly between the two ponies. The sun was high in the sky before they mounted the ponies and set off homeward, riding along in a companionable silence all that day, enjoying each other's company without the need for words as they both adjusted to having Frodo back in Middle Earth. 

That evening, while his old friend roasted tomatoes and mushrooms over a popping, hissing fire, Frodo decided that he had had enough of companionable silences, and began, excitedly, to ask questions about the events of the last seven years. 

"Oh, Sam, it's been seven years! I must have missed so much! Tell me all the news you can think of – everything! How are Merry and Pip? And Fatty? How many children do you and Rose have now? How're the Gaffer and Farmer Cotton? And –"

"Whoa, whoa there. All right now. If you don't stop asking questions, I'll never be able to answer a one of them," Sam chuckled. "Where, out of all that mess, do you want me to start?"

"Start right at home, and go out from there. How are things in Bag End?"

"Well, there are four little ones in Bag End now: Elanor, Frodo-lad, Rosie-lass, and little Merry. The poor old house has never dealt with children, but it's adjusted itself admirably. I needn't really tell you more about the young ones – soon enough you'll be living with them, and you'll know them more than well enough." Sam paused, a flash of apprehension flitting across his face. "That is….unless you'll be wanting Bag End back to yourself….Rose and I couldn't stand to put you out of your own home."

The surprise on Frodo's face couldn't have been more evident if it had been written there. "I don't want you to give me the house back! It's yours, to do with as you please, even if what pleases you is setting fire to the insides and roasting marshmallows out on the roof." The taller, thinner hobbit smiled playfully. "Although I'm rather hoping you don't do that."

His short friend laughed in spite of himself, then asked, "You will stay with us, then?"

"Oh yes. Nothing would please me more. But just now I want news! Come on, Sam, on with it! Now about Merry and Pip."

"All right." Sam lapsed into thought for a moment, pulling together all recent news about their friends. "Merry and Pippin are both doing wonderfully. Pip married his Diamond a few months ago – I never did think he'd persuade her to move all the way from Long Cleeve, but persuade her he did. We haven't seen much of him lately," Sam smiled conspiratorially, then continued, "I haven't seen all that much of Merry either. It's just such a distance to Brandy Hall…we all three of us write, though. The last time I heard from him, he was expecting Pippin and Diamond for a visit. Say – the two of them are probably home by now, why don't we stop by Tuckborough and visit on our way back?"

"Oh, of course, that'd be wonderful! Now go on. Fatty?"

"Fredegar married Begonia Proudfoot nea –"

"What? Little Bitsy?"

"That's right. Nearly two years ago. They make a bit of an odd couple, big Fatty and little Bitsy Bolger, but they're wonderful together. They're living just down the road in Hobbiton. Now as for the Gaffer, his rheumatism's been acting up lately, but besides that he's doing wonderfully. He'll be so pleased to see you again. Farmer Cotton turned over the management of the farm to Tom this spring, so he, Joly, Nick and Nibs are doing most of the work. I think Cotton's enjoying the rest quite a bit."

As Sam paused, panting, slightly breathless from his long speech, he noticed that Frodo was listening with rapt attention evident on his face. He glanced up as Sam stopped speaking and said absently, his mind on the beloved home -- and its inhabitants -- that his friend was describing, "Surely more than that has happened in seven years."

"Well, Will Whitfoot has resigned as Mayor. Besides that, I can't think of anything else I should tell you. Most everyone will want to tell their own news when you get back."

"That is true. So who's the new Mayor?"

Rather to Frodo's surprise, his friend flushed and looked away, not answering for several moments. "Ummm...I am."

"What! That's wonderful! Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to make a fuss."

"Oh, Sam, Sam. Fine, I won't make a fuss." Frodo's beaming grin as he said this was more than enough of a fuss for his friend, who blushed self-consciously once again and, declaring his exhaustion, stood and moved a bit away from the fire to make up his bed. He fell asleep almost immediately. As Sam's peaceful snore's reached his ears, Frodo, realizing how exhausted he himself was, made up a second bed and fell peacefully asleep under the brilliant stars of Middle Earth.

The next morning they started out early, trotting briskly along the Great East Road on ponies that sensed they were heading homeward. As darkness fell that evening, Frodo spotted the guard-post marking the bounds of the Shire and cried out, "Look, Sam! Home!"

"Of course it's not home," Sam replied, eyeing his companion as though he'd gone mad, "Hobbiton's still nearly thirty leagues away."

"No, no, not Hobbiton! The Shire! See?"

"Ohhh. You're right! My, we've made remarkably good time." 

Almost as he spoke they reached the post and were met by a Shirriff, who looked them up and down and then cried: "Sam Gamgee! And Frodo Baggins, if I don't miss my guess!"

Sam squinted at the hobbit official in the fading light, then grinned in recognition. "Robin Smallburrow, if I don't miss mine! What are you doing way out here?"

"Patrolling. My turn on the bounds is nearly up, though. Can't say I'm sorry. So, Sam, wherever did you find this Baggins? The general opinion is that he's long dead, but by all appearances I'd say he isn't," Robin said, looking up at Frodo with a friendly grin. "I must say, Mr. Baggins, it's nice to be able to welcome you into the Shire without having to arrest you."

"And it's nice not to be arrested," Frodo returned, grinning back. As Robin and Sam chatted, he climbed from his pony and slowly, quite deliberately stepped over the border into the Shire and turned about, just in time to see the Sun disappear in the West, behind the Tower Hills.

*~*~*~*~*

More AN: That's all for now. More in the next couple weeks, if all goes according to plan. Thanks to all reviewers so far, you guys have been very, very encouraging.


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: See the first chapter. All of that applies.

AN: Sorry for the shortness of this chapter, and even more so for the lateness. I'm a terrible procrastinator, and it shows. I'm doing my best to break out of that rut – hopefully it'll work, and you'll get chapters faster. Many thanks to my 'Gamma Reader', LadyJea, for providing the swift kick in the pants I needed to get this finished and posted.

~*~*~*~*~*~

By the time, late the next evening, that the weary hobbits reached Waymeet and turned onto the road leading to Pippin's home, darkness was falling and the surrounding farmland was enveloped in the clear, indigo light of an early autumn evening. Exhausted from a long, hard day's riding, they pressed on the last few miles to Tuckborough, heads nodding every now and then as their ponies' rocking strides pushed them into a doze. As the village drew near, the moon rose, brilliant, nearly full, blotting out the early stars clustered in the sky and throwing pale shadows across the road. The distant bark of a dog was answered by another much closer, and Frodo, jolted awake by the harsh sound, asked groggily "Wh-where are we?"

"Tuckborough. The Thain's hole is just up there," Sam answered drowsily, nodding towards the looming bank ahead. 

The hobbits pulled up their ponies and tied them just outside a door set deep into the bank. Frodo, who had come quite fully awake when he saw the home of his old friend, shot up the path to the door, raising his hand to knock, and then, suddenly nervous, stopped to wait for Sam, who was coming up the walk at a more respectable speed. "Could you knock, Sam? Suddenly I don't seem able to."

Sam rapped at the deep-set blue door, and after a moment they heard the shuffle of small feet. A little hobbit lass, not more than five, cracked open the door and poked her head out like a turtle emerging from its shell. "Yes? Who is it?" she asked curiously.

Frodo glanced over at his friend, wordlessly asking who this was, as Sam said cheerfully, "Well, hello, Hazel. How are you?"

The girl squinted up at his face, almost lost in the gathering gloom, then opened the door a bit wider, letting more light out into the night. "Oh, Mr. Gamgee! Hello! Do you want to come in?" She swung the door wide and waved Sam inside, Frodo following behind, still trying to work out whose child this could be. As she shut the door, Hazel turned back to Sam and said, "Uncle Pippin's still visiting Uncle Merry. Do you want me to go get Gramma?"

"Yes, please. Can you tell her that Sam Gamgee is here, and that he's brought Frodo with him?"

"Who's that?"

"Don't worry. She'll know." As the lass scampered off, Sam noticed Frodo's puzzled expression and explained. "Pippin's niece, Hazel Grubb – Pervinca's eldest. They must be visiting."

"When did Pervinca marry?"

"Oh, about six years ago now."

Frodo sighed. "It's going to take me years to catch up on all that's happened here." As he finished his sentence, they heard several hobbits rushing into the passage leading to the entry, and Frodo was promptly engulfed in an immense hug and several kisses on the cheeks, administered by his Aunt Eglantine. He endured this for a few moments, then wheezed, "Aunt Lani, I'm glad to see you too. Please don't strangle me."

She reluctantly broke off her enthusiastic embrace and stepped back, saying, "Let me get a good look at you." As he was inspected, Frodo took the opportunity to examine his aunt and uncle. He decided that, except for a smattering of grey hairs, they looked just about the same as they had seven years ago – Aunt Lani plump, cheerful, and excessively freckled, and Uncle Paladin as wiry and serious as ever. He'd always thought the two of them made an odd couple.

"So you've decided to come home, have you?" Paladin asked, eyeing his nephew as if trying to ascertain how long he'd stay in the Shire **this** time.

"Yes, I have. For good," Frodo glanced pointedly at his uncle. Then, turning to his aunt he queried, "When are you expecting Pippin and Diamond back?"

"Not for a few days," Eglantine said. "Probably longer now – I expect they'll stop at Bag End when they hear you're back. Oh, I say! You must be famished! Sit down, you two, and let me find you something to eat. Paladin, dear, go fetch Pervinca. I'm sure she'll love to see her cousin again. I say, you two, sit down!" She concluded her rambling by tugging her guests into the kitchen and pulling two chairs out from the table. Sam and Frodo obediently sat down.

As the travelers tucked in to plates heaped high with supper leftovers, Pervinca entered the kitchen, little Hazel following close behind. "Hello, there, cousin," she said. "It's good to have you back." Then, to her mother, "Are those mushrooms, Mom? Could I have some?" Soon she settled down at the table with her own food, saying, "So Sam, Frodo, will you be staying the night?"

"If we're invited," said Sam. Frodo's mouth was too full to speak, so he conveyed his agreement with a nod and an enthusiastic wave of his fork.

"Oh, good," Lani grinned, "I couldn't bear to think of you two out all alone in the cold. You like the mushrooms, Frodo?" 

"Mmmhhph."

Sam choked into his plate as he laughed, elbowing Frodo amicably. "Didn't they have mushrooms out there, Frodo? I thought the West was positively perfect," he whispered.

"The Ainur can do many things, Sam. Mushrooms aren't one of them," Frodo mumbled around yet another mouthful.

"Well, then," Sam said as he scraped bits of gravy off his plate, "it's a good thing you came home."

"What are you talking about?" Hazel asked, piping up for the first time since she'd come in with her mother.

"Nothing much," Frodo said, turning in his chair to face her. "So, Hazel, have you figured out who I am yet?"

"Mama says you're our cousin. How come I've never met you?"

"Have you met all your cousins?"

"No," she said after a moment, "there are a lot."

"There you have it, then. I got lost in the shuffle."

Both Hazel and Pervinca laughed, Pervinca saying "Really, Frodo, I expect you to tell me all about it someday. But not now," she added as Hazel's eyes lit up, "because now it's time for someone to go to bed."

"But Mama…"

"No buts. If you don't complain, I'll get your Daddy to tell you a story."

"The frog one?"

"We'll see. Now come along." They left the kitchen, Eglantine right behind them as she went to look for Paladin. Sam and Frodo were left sitting alone with their empty plates. 

"So," Sam asked, "how does it feel to be back with family?"

Frodo sighed, leaning back in his chair and smiling benevolently at his plate. "Wonderful." 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Me again. That's all for now. This chapter, as with all my writing, is dedicated to Abba, ad majorem Dei gloriam.


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Characterization of minor characters is mine, but that could probably be contested in court, so I won't claim even that.

***

The drawer squealed, protesting its sudden wrench from comfortable disuse as Eglantine gave it a sharp tug. "Blasted desk," she mumbled, glancing furtively across the room toward the bed, hoping she hadn't awakened Paladin. He stirred, mumbled, then rolled over and recommenced his hoarse snores. Lani smiled at her husband as she slipped a sheet of paper out of the drawer. Reaching over to uncover the inkwell, she dipped her pen and began to write.

__

Dear Peregrin,

Oh, how I hope this note reaches you before you leave Buckland. I have positively marvelous news! But first, dear, how are things? I hope you and Di are well. Best wishes to you both. Do say hello to everyone for me. 

_Dear little Hazel was quite disappointed that you were not here when they arrived to visit, but her disappointment did not last long, as we received some most unexpected visitors last night. You will never guess who, though I'm quite tempted to make you try anyway. But you know your mother. I can never keep a secret, no matter how I might wish it. And in this case, I don't wish it at all. I'm very anxious to tell you. But perhaps I shall drag it out a bit longer…_

Or perhaps not. You'll know soon enough, and I do so want to be the one to tell you. So here it is then, Pip. Your cousin Frodo is come home. As I said, he came in last night, with Sam Gamgee – they're on the way to Hobbiton. His arrival was quite a surprise, as you had seemed so sure when you told us he wouldn't be back this time. Your father took it harder than I, though – I'm afraid he was so surprised as to be a bit snappish. But he is glad to have Frodo back, I can tell.

Well, wherever the boy was this time – and I intend to hear his whole story sometime, though not just yet --, he's back now, and he says it is for good. Perhaps he'll finally settle down…but he's only just home, there's time enough for matchmaking later.

I can't wait to see you, son, but don't let that keep you from stopping at Bag End on your way home. I do hope you're having a wonderful time. All my love,

Mum

Eglantine folded the letter and, leaving it on the desk, returned her attention to the open drawer to rummage about for sealing wax. The rustle of stacks of paper as she dug through them awakened Paladin. He stirred and sat up, yawning. "Nnngh," he mumbled, glancing outside. "It's early. What are you doing?"

"Writing Pippin. If I want to be the first to tell him about Frodo, this letter needs to go out with the early post."

"Ah. Well, if you're going to wake me up, what time is breakfast?"

"Whenever you want it. Frodo and Sam wanted to be home by lunch, so I arranged to have breakfast early. You can go eat now, if you'd like. I'm going as soon as I finish this letter."

"I'll wait for you then," Paladin said, stepping out of bed, snatching his dressing gown, and picking his way across the chilly floor to his wife's side. "Sealing wax is in the other drawer, Lani."

"No it isn't, I put it – oh! You're right!" she exclaimed as he brandished it triumphantly.

"I know I'm right. I cleaned the desk the other day."

"Well, that would explain why I couldn't find a thing."

"No, dear, that has nothing to do with the cleanliness of the desk." Paladin laughed as his wife finished addressing her letter and brandished the dripping quill threateningly in his direction. She laughed with him, tossing the pen onto the blotter and crossing the room to her wardrobe.

"It's good to see you in a better mood this morning, Paladin."

"I'm always in a good mood for you, Eglantine," he said, looking rather like a shamed little boy.

"Yes, dear, but it would do you worlds of good to try out some of that charm on someone other than me."

"We shall see. But first, breakfast, or I shan't be cheerful for anyone." With that, Paladin ducked out the door, leaving Eglantine alone. She fairly beamed with satisfaction as she dressed. This was bound to be a good day.

As Lani left the bedchamber, Hazel ran up to her side. "Gramma, Frodo and Mr. Gamgee are ready to leave! Hurry up!" She snatched up her grandmother's hand with an impatient yank. "Come on!"

"Hazel, they're not going to leave without saying goodbye. Calm down, dear." Following the lass down the hall, Eglantine drew up short as she came upon a most unlikely scene: Paladin cautiously returning Frodo's hug. Her good spirits bolstered, she hurried the rest of the way to engulf her nephew in an embrace of her own. "Frodo," she said as she released him, "do be careful, and remember to write. Oh, and speaking of writing, I've written Pippin, so he should be by Bag End soon."

"Good!"

"Yes, yes…and there was something else…what was it? Oh, yes! I had the cook pack you a lunch, did she give it to you?"

"Mm-hmm. I had to supervise Sam's packing, to make sure he didn't get into it. It smells marvelous."

"That's good. Well, then, your ponies are waiting. You should go, if you're to be home by teatime. Goodbye, Frodo. We'll see you soon."

"Goodbye, Aunt Lani, Uncle Paladin. Goodbye, Pervinca, Tom, Hazel." After a last round of hugs and handshakes, Frodo and Sam set off down the lane at a trot, enjoying the fresh breeze in their faces.

"You know, Sam," Frodo said, as the morning bustle of Tuckborough faded into the distance, "I've been thinking."

"Really, Mister Frodo? I didn't think you did that often."

"Now Sam, if you're going to tease, I shan't tell you what I was thinking, and while that might not be any great loss, I have a feeling it would disappoint you all the same."

"All right then, I'll be serious. What sort of marvelous thoughts are running through your head?"

"Well, that's hardly serious, but I suppose it must do. I've just been thinking about how happy I've felt the last few days. The last time I was riding home to Bag End, all I wanted was to go back to life the way I'd known it, just pick up where I'd left off. But somehow, I never could. I was too wounded, I suppose. So I left. And the West was wonderful, Sam. Truly, I don't think anything could be as beautiful as a sunrise on Eressëa. But it wasn't home. It was painless, it was happy, but it wasn't home. Still, I knew I could never go back home, so I was content. Deep down, I longed for my life here, but I was content. And then, out of nowhere, I got a chance to come back…to come home. And now here I am, riding back to Bag End once again. But last time, I knew it was only temporary, that I'd be leaving again. This time, I know it's forever. Whether I want it or not, it's permanent this time. I'm home for good. When Bilbo first asked me if I would return, I thought that that part, the very permanence of it, the knowing that, pain or no, I was stuck here, would be horrible. I very nearly didn't come because of it. But now I'm here, knowing that, come what may, I'm home, it's a wonderful thing." Frodo stopped, caught his breath, sighed. "I'm afraid all that didn't make much sense."

"Oh, no, Frodo," Sam looked over at his friend, blinking back tears. "It was the most sense I've heard in a long time." The two rode along silently for a good while, weighing the words between them, before Sam spoke up again. "Frodo, do you remember what you told me at the Havens, just before you sailed? You said 'All that I had and might have had I leave to you.'"

"I remember."

Sam smiled knowingly. "Well, Frodo, I've been thinking about that, and I've decided that I have plenty of my own. I give you yours back. Make good use of it, and you'll be as busy and as happy as anyone can be. I can guarantee it."

***

AN: Well, there it is. Hope you all liked it, and my apologies, once again, for the wait. With school ending soon, I can only pray the intervals between chapters won't be as long. You'll notice I postponed all author's notes 'till the end of the chapter. I think I'll be doing that from now on. It's less disruptive. Besides, you're more likely to read it. Anyway, as I said, I hope you (whoever you may be) enjoyed it. God Bless!


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